Guardian of the Balance
by acromantula87
Summary: Wasting away after the death of his godfather, Harry Potter is rescued by the Guardian of Magic, but everything comes with a price. powerful!harry, independent!harry. Please be nice, as this is my first story.
1. Guardian

Disclaimer: Don't own it, just playing with it.

A/N: This is my first attempt at a fanfic story, so please bear with me. This story will be an independent and powerful Harry story with Merlin as a mentor. There will be some mild Dumbledore, wizard, and muggle bashing, but Albus is not a villain. Just a misguided man. Although this chapter is short and doesn't have much depth of character. I will address this in later chapters.

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The unusually bright moonlight illuminated the majestic unbroken hedgerows along the side of the country lane. A lone figure strode purposefully down the center of the road, buckled boots gleaming and obsidian black cloak flapping behind him. His strange garb and an indefinable air of superiority harkened to ages long past. In medieval England, he could have passed as a lesser noble, maybe a duke.

A hill rose from behind the hedges and the figure came upon a large wrought iron gate. The man's bright green eyes followed a cobbled drive past an abandoned guardhouse, past large dilapidated stables which had doubtless once been a grand sight. Gnarled, dead looking yew trees framed a hulking manor with soaring towers and a large entrance. Moonlight glanced off of tall cracked windows recessed into the grimy stone of the building.

The duke looked down at the large but mundane padlock chained to the gate and sneered. With a wave of his hand, the padlock liquefied and slid to the ground leaving everything else unharmed. Instead of the loud creak one might have expected, the gate swung open without a sound. The duke stepped inside, stared with unfocused but glowing eyes in the general direction of the building sniffed the air, and promptly faded into the shadows of the tall, oddly immaculate hedges.

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Alone the master suite of the manor, a skinny, slightly short fifteen year old boy lay spread eagled on what must once have been quite a luxurious horsehair and down mattress. He was clearly wasting away with pale papery skin, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. He had wanted, or rather needed, to be alone, and here he was, his wish granted.

He had not eaten or drunk for almost a week, and the only thing keeping hip alive was his boiling magic. Any remotely intelligent person would know that he needed some serious psychiatric help. The surprising thing was that this had not happened before now. The boy had seen more suffering in his childhood years than many see in a lifetime.

An orphan of war, raised by those who despised his kind, Harry Potter knew little of the goodness of man and much about the human potential for evil. Since his birth, Harry had witnessed the deaths of his parents, a fellow student and possible friend, and with the passing of his godfather, the death of hope. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

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The duke faded into sight in master suite of his ancestral home. Sighing at the sight of the boy on his bed, he strode from his room, navigating the long corridors with ease. Walking into a darkened laboratory, he snapped his fingers and the room was flooded with light.

"Never could understand why potions masters insist on such darkness and dankness," the duke mumbled under his breath. As the man deftly prepared a nutrient potion, invigorating potion, and shock reversal potion all at once, he reflected on his own past. Born Myrddin Wyllt, he became Myrddin, advisor to Arthur, Myrddin Duke of Emrys, and in recent years, a man without a name. He was not immortal, but as an agent of magic, was kept alive and healthy. Other groups and people had guarded the balance before, but one by one, they grew greedy, and neglecting their jobs died out.

In a small keep in Wales, he was born into a servant family, but at the age of thirteen, had retreated into the surrounding dark forests to learn his craft, magik. Myrddin built a small hut in the woods, catching and gathering his own food and meditating every day finding his core, or soul, which held his magic, had taken a whole year, but Myrddin was patient. Finding the magic which surrounded him took almost two years, but Myrrdin was in no hurry. As the years passed he learned to speak with animals, learned the secrets of the forest, and built a loving relationship with magic. He learned that there were two types of magic, the magic within him and the real magic of the world.

First he learned the magic of the forest, which was everywhere, in all the plants and all the animals. Magic was in the rocks and the soil. Magic was in the water and the air. Magic was in the fire after a lightning strike and in the ash from which new plants would grow. It was in the birth of a baby and in the death of an old man. Magic was in everything and in nothing. Magic was sentient, and he was its guardian

Myrddin was neither dark nor light, creator nor destroyer. Just like magic, he was all of these things and none of them. It was his job to keep the balance. Myrddyn learned from the forest for forty years, with only magic and the forest for company. The druids, who had kept the balance for time unseen, were dying out. Sacrifices for the dark and orgies for the light were no longer able to do the job with Romans invading from one side and Visigoths and Vandals invading from the other.

After traveling to a dying Rome and honing his knowledge of man, he returned to Briton, becoming the man of both muggle and magical legend. He was seen as the forefather of modern magic although he rarely used it. The only times he used a wand or staff were as an extra tool in fighting and to complete delicate tasks such as warding. Merlin, as he was now known had his own brand of magic, much of which was asking the surrounding magic to do things. Usually his requests were granted. He was back again to teach Harry Potter, if the boy would let him. Perhaps Harry would even be the next guardian of the balance.

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Returning to the room in which Harry lay, Merlin poured the potions down the boy's throat and asked magic to heal him the rest of the way. The results were surprising to say the least.

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NEXT CHAPTER: Harry wakes up, and conversations with Merlin.

A/N: I will try and be prompt, but my updates may be sporadic. If I decide to abandon the story, I will tell you all instead of just leaving you hanging.

Pretty please review!


	2. Meetings

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am selling nothing, although if you want to give me some money, I could certainly use it. (Just kidding.)

A/N: I am looking for betas that are fast and thorough, and sharp as a tack. If you are interested, please PM me, including a list of any stories you have worked on in the past, as well as anything else you think is relevant.

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--Harry's Point of View:

As Harry slept he dreamed. Finding himself in a familiar graveyard overshadowed by a decrepit manner house, Harry felt a growing sense of dread. He knew exactly what was about to happen, since this was by no means the first time he had experienced this particular dream. Every time, he would try and change history, but nothing he did ever worked.

Standing close to a confused Cedric, he looked towards the house and caught sight of an oddly rodent-like man with an oddly sinister bundle of clothes in his arms walking towards him in slow motion. Harry looked at Peter Pettigrew, one time friend of his parents and found himself drowning in hatred. He despised the traitor for depriving him of his parents and hated him for turning his back on his friends just because he was a coward. A cold, high voice issued from the bundle of clothes.

"Kill the spare!"

As Wormtail shouted "Avada Cadavra!", Harry let out his own yell, diving in front of the curse. Harry's eyes widened as the curse hit him in the chest, throwing him into another nightmare.

Harry was dueling with Lucius Malfoy, whose hair could be seen poking out from behind his bone white mask. "Give me-" Lucius ducked Harry's shouted reductor curse "-the prophesy" Lucius sent a silent severing curse which Harry blocked with a quick shield " and I'll let you and your filthy friends live," finished Lucius sending a blood freezing hex at Harry. Diving behind a bench, Harry replied with biting sarcasm. "And Voldemort regularly drinks tea and eats crumpets with the muggle Queen."

Neville Longbottom waltzed by, legs moving of their own accord. And all hell broke loose, Order members storming through the many doors along the edge of the death room, engaging the death eaters in fierce duels. Moody, surprisingly agile for a man with a peg leg started fighting Malfoy. Harry turned to see Tonks fighting her aunt Bellatrix, who was laughing insanely. Sirius rushed in to the fight as Tonks, dodging a bone-shattering curse, tripped over the dais for veil and fell on her face.

Remus Lupin shouted "GET OUT OF HERE, HARRY!," but Harry, transfixed by the dual in the center of the room did nothing. Sirius and Bellatrix were engaged in a deadly but almost beautiful dance, constantly blocking or silently casting spells at each other, wands brandished like swords. Dodging a bright red heart melting curse, Sirius smirked and shouted "Surely you can do better than that, cousin Bella-aaaaaah!"

As Sirius taunted his cousin, he was hit by a simple tripping jinx and fell backwards through the veil, which fluttered before stilling completely.

Hatred burning in his eyes, Harry raced towards a cackling Bellatrix, determined to do the curse right this time. Harry snarled "Crucio!," pointing his wand at Bellatrix. A pulsing red beam of light connected with the woman and she fell to the ground, screaming in agony. Too shocked to do anything, the Order members and death eaters stared at Harry Potter as the supposed golden boy of Gryffindor tortured a woman into insanity.

Falling from delirium into coma, Harry potter ceased to dream.

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As Harry woke, felt something wrong. Seeing a man standing over his bed he quickly rolled onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed, firing stunning, disarming, leg locking, and silencing curses at the strange figure.

-- At the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix:

A somber looking Albus Dumbledore, wearing unusually sedate periwinkle robes, sat at the head of the scarred kitchen table, the light from the fireplace dancing across his face. He looked down the table at the faces of the Order members. Some looked hopeful and some looked slightly fearful, but most simply looked tired. Minerva sat almost straighter than humanly possible, which was normal for her, but instead of the typical stern look on her face, she wore a worried expression. Molly was shifting in her seat, occasionally wringing her hands. Kingsley looked unusually tired, and Tonks looked strangely professional. They were all waiting for the last member to arrive.

Severus walked in the door, and surveyed the table, a sneer forming on his face. "So much fuss over a mere talentless schoolboy," he said in a smooth drawl. Molly glared at him, but the rest of the members were used to his constant sarcasm. "Please sit down, and we can begin," Dumbledore said in a weary voice.

As Severus took his seat, Dumbledore turned to Tonks and Kingsley. "Any news on the classified ministry search?" he asked. Kingsley answered, not looking pleased. "Two auror teams are still looking for Harry, but not making much progress. None of our tracking devices can find him, which suggests one or more of three things; he is in a heavily warded location, he is not using magic but is in a magical area, or he is dead." Several people drew in loud breaths at the last option, but no one commented; there was no need.

Tonks spoke up. "I would suggest asking the department of mysteries for help, but with all the turmoil in the ministry right now, I haven't been able to find any of our contacts. We can only hope the new minister is on our side and not an idiot," she finished.

"Severus, does Voldemort know anything?" asked Dumbledore. Severus looked up. "I managed to discover that Voldemort knows, but doesn't have the boy. It seems he has spies everywhere in the ministry, because he is quite up to date on the situation."

Dumbledore sighed and said "I have gone over Harry's house a second time and still cannot find any trace of magic. As his belongings are still there, though, any voluntary departure could not have been planned. Either he was kidnapped or left in an emotional outburst. The Dursleys have nothing useful to add. Apparently they were all out of the house when he disappeared."

The headmaster sighed and looked around the table. "Does anyone have any useful Ideas?" When nobody spoke up, he said "Meeting adjourned," and walked from the room.

-- Merlin's POV:

Although Merlin wore a rather shocked expression, he managed to easily block the amateur spells sent at him by the boy. Holding his shield up absently, he stared at the boy. During the few minutes after ingesting the potions, after the magic to heal Harry had been invoked, the boy's body had begun to change.

First, Harry got taller, his lanky body lengthening from about 4'5" to over six feet. Then his muscles started to grow. He didn't look like a body builder, but instead like across between a runner and a swimmer. He sprouted facial hair, his messy hair lengthening and pooling around his head.

As his eyes snapped open, they rested on Merlin, possibly an even more striking green than that of the legendary sorcerer's eyes. Barely a second after harry saw the other man in the room, he leaped from the bed showing no sign of the muscular atrophy that should have resulted from his time in bed.

-- Harry's POV:

Firing several minor curses fairly rapidly, but seeing the man only block them without retaliating, he stared at the strangely calm man for a minute without moving or talking.

"Who the hell are you?" Harry finally blurted. "I wake up and find you staring at me like I'm some sort of freak show, and although I get that a lot, people rarely come to my room to gawk at me," finished Harry, only slightly lamely.

"Before I tell you my name, why don't you sit down on the bed and let me explain the situation we find ourselves in," responded the man.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but went and sat on the bed. The man looked slightly weathered, but vital at the same time with an indefinable air of power around him. Silver hair cascaded to the shoulders of the man's rather aristocratic looking purple robes. Looking into green eyes strikingly similar to his own, he saw great wisdom and honesty.

"Alright," replied Harry, "but don't think I haven't forgotten." "Why are you here, why am I here, and come to think of it, where is here?" he continued.

"This is Emrys Keep, which I own," said the man. "I apologize for the mess, but I have been absent for a great many years. I felt a call from magic to return, and upon arriving, found you here. I can only assume that it was the will of magic."

"Yeah, well she and I aren't on the best of terms right now," muttered Harry, a bitter look on his face.

The stranger looked at Harry sharply, saying "Magic has kept you alive when you should have died from dehydration, and now, has brought you back to the land of the living, stronger and more vital than when you, by the looks of it, gave up."

"What do you mean?" asked an obviously confused Harry.

The man looked at Harry, smirked, and waved his hand, silently conjuring a claw footed mirror. "You seem to have changed quite a bit recently," he said.

Harry looked at his reflection, momentarily shocked before saying "ah." After looking at himself for a moment, he asked the man "I know I'm already taking advantage of your hospitality, but could I please have a shirt and some pants or a robe or whatever?"

"Do you know how to conjure permanently?" said the man. "No," responded Harry. "Oh well, take this." said the man before flicking his wrist. A black and gray woolen robe fell out of the air onto Harry's Bed.

"Now, as to who I am," continued the man. "I am the guardian of magic. I was trapped for many years in a prison created by one of my enemies, and around twenty years ago I emerged, only to find that the world had changed in almost every way from how it was in my youth." He stared off into space for a moment with a profoundly lost look. "I roamed the world, finding cities of my time in ruins and new cities where there had always been forest, desert, or moor. I learned modern magic, science, politics and law. I was saddened to find that many of the ways of my youth are no more."

The man looked Harry right in the eye and said "My name is Myrddin, Duke of Emrys, but most people today know me as Merlin"

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NEXT CHAPTER: Harry makes decisions.


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